When I was younger, particularly before I became medicated, my OCD was garden variety. Blasphemous phrases in the tulips, fear of becoming homicidal pushing up in the daisies, infectious blood in the bleeding hearts.
But the roses in my OCD garden kept my mother. All the years I spent worrying about something happening to my mother, hyper vigilant, trying to evade her mortality, yet in the end she died just the same.
Nowadays my garden variety case of OCD has died for the most part and is mulch for another monster, a weed that began years ago.
Now my mind is a courthouse. Not a Florida courthouse where you can get off for the darndest things, more like “kill ‘em all or make ‘em wear pink” Arizona. The judge in my head is merciless and ready to throw the book.
My crime is my inferiority complex. I want to measure up to the rest of the world and I fail. My judge hates my frailty. I pray and pray that I can measure up to normal people, but I keep making mistakes everyday. I keep making people mad. I keep making myself mad. My judge asks me, “What use are you to anyone?”
“Dunno. I take care of my cats.”
I know the truth. If I died tomorrow, no one would be inconsolable. The one person who needed me is ashes in a plastic box. People loved my mother. I was just her quiet daughter, the one folks assumed was ‘slow.’
In a way not being needed is liberating. Being around people tends to remind me of my faults. I like being around people, but I don’t like seeing the various ways that I fail. I sometimes feel like a leper around humans. I mean well, but as that drag queen I used to live with said, ‘you’re a boil on my ass that I just can’t lance.” Ah, but everyday that boil survives on her own, makes the sun shine where the sun don’t shine.
On a positive note, my eyes are healthy (apart from being blind as a bat without my glasses). I bet it’s been over 10 years since my last eye examination. I was afraid they’d find macular degeneration in my eyes since it runs in the family.
I once had my glasses adjusted at that office while my friend was there getting new glasses. The attendant remembered me because of my award-winning personality….and the super glue prominent on my left lens.
- Guest Post: Common Myths about OCD (ocdbloggergirl.wordpress.com)
- Poet Neil Hilborn “OCD” (fireflydance.net)
- OCD sufferer’s poem becomes overnight worldwide sensation (wellthisiswhatithink.wordpress.com)
- The Nonsense of OCD (ocdtalk.wordpress.com)
- Post-partum OCD: What causes the unthinkable anxiety disorder and how to get help. | Babble (babble.com)
- Neil Hilborn – “OCD” (Rustbelt 2013) (worldofzhi.wordpress.com)
- Understanding OCD in Dogs (dogs.answers.com)
- Man With OCD Performs Love Poem About OCD Whilst Exhibiting OCD Symptoms (fastcocreate.com)
- OCD… Obsessively Cool Disorder (liamtristanevans.wordpress.com)